That Eerie Shade of Blue
by sunnyamazing
Summary: Post Countdown: Thoughts in the middle of the night: Blue was a colour they'd never look at the same; blue was a colour they'd never forget. Blue was the colour of frozen fingers, of cold lips, blue was eerie and they've never realised it before.
1. Chapter 1

**So .. this is my first trip into Castle fanfiction, although I've watched the show since episode one. I watched Countdown approximately two hours ago and couldn't sleep until I wrote this, it's now almost 4am, yes I am an Australian. This is just something that wrote itself, all from Castle's POV. If people like it then I am pretty sure that one more watch of Countdown could have me inside Beckett's head and this could have a chapter two, so please let me know.**

**If you like what you read you are welcome to follow me on Twitter - lalaurala_bones - My TwitterFam call me Sunshine and I'd be happy to have more Castle fans in my life!**

**I don't own Castle, it belongs to minds far more talented than mine.**

**Enjoy :)**

**

* * *

**

**That Eerie Shade of Blue**

His head leapt up from the pillow, he could feel his hands shaking under the blankets. He'd been dreaming, dreaming of freezing, dreaming of dirty bombs, dreaming of the way his heart had pounded when he felt her hand fall limp next to him. As one of his shaking hands made it's way to his face, he realised it wasn't a dream. He'd lived through all that, it had all been real.

His bedroom was dark, apart from the blue illuminated clock on the dresser. Richard Castle had never felt that blue was an eerie colour, but that changed today. Blue was the colour her fingers had turned, his fingers had turned. Blue was the colour her lips had turned when she'd tried to speak to him, whispering thoughts of how she was sure she'd end up taking a bullet, not freezing to death. Blue was the colour his breath had appeared as he struggled to fight against the bitter cold. Blue was a colour he'd never look at the same; blue was a colour he'd never forget.

Reaching out from underneath the extra blankets his mother had made him place on his bed, he found the switch for the clock and flicked it off. The blue was gone from his vision, but it would never be erased from his memory. No part of the last day would ever be forgotten, for how could he forget? How could he forget telling Alexis to go with his mother to the spiritual retreat? How could he forget how his heart pounded when the radiation alarm went off for the first time? How could he forget the feeling of his lungs freezing as he tried to breathe? How could he forget taking hold of her hand and pulling every wire he could hold? How do you forget a day that changed everything in ways that only he could determine? He could spend his life trying to forget, but he knew he'd never succeed.

Suddenly he felt himself begin to shiver and he pulled the blankets tighter around his body, he couldn't remember what Dr Motorcycle Boy had said about lasting side effects, he'd been too busy concentrating on trying to see Beckett, trying to make sure that she was okay. As soon as he had seen her, standing there, staring back at him, he'd felt a little better, his heart returned to a normal pace. In the bitter cold her hand had fallen limp beside him and he'd never forget the feeling of helplessness that it had made him feel, the way his heart had reacted to her actions, and the way he had pleaded with her to stay with him. He shook his head; he didn't want to think of what would have happened if Ryan and Esposito hadn't arrived in time to save her. He'd stayed at the 12th so that he could write a better character for his new novels, but instead he'd found a real woman, with more character than he would have ever been able to imagine. Kate Beckett was extraordinary, more extraordinary than Nikki Heat by far, and she wasn't fictional, she was real.

The Captain was right when he had told Fallon that Beckett was the best he had, and Castle knew he had struck gold by being able to shadow her, by being able to call her a friend. He sighed as he slid from the bed, taking one of the top blankets with him, wrapping it around his shoulders. He took care in the dark room, avoiding the dresser and making his way to the doorway carefully. Once there he navigated his way to the sofa and switched on the lamp that was nearby. He shivered once again, not knowing if it was the change in temperature or the thought that the last time he'd sat on this sofa with a blanket wrapped around himself he'd been telling his mother and Alexis to get out of town, to go to the Hamptons and not come back until he told them so. He'd made his daughter stop calling Ashley, the first boy that she'd ever loved, he'd made them go, not knowing if he'd ever see them again. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, but knowing that they weren't in the city, that they were perhaps safe, even if he and Beckett weren't, had made him feel slightly better.

His mother and Alexis had returned soon before Castle arrived home, his mother wore a look of panic and greeted him with more blankets and a slap on the arm. Alexis had simply buried her head in his chest and told him that she loved him, neither of them had pushed him on the subject of today's events, they had simply left him alone, except for the blankets, Martha had told him that they were non-negotiable, he would sleep tonight with four extra blankets on the bed and there were two more on the floor if he needed them. He sighed as he sunk back into the sofa, how ironic life seemed this evening. Had he and Beckett not gotten to the bomb in time, worrying about blankets would have been the last thing on his mind, and had he not pulled those wires, there would have been nothing on his mind, he, nor Beckett would have existed.

When he had taken her hand, squeezing it tightly, he'd thought that this was the end. No-one cheated death twice in one day, this was real life, it wasn't one of his books, he didn't know the ending, he wasn't responsible for writing it. He'd taken Beckett's hand and reached out for the wires, he didn't know what he was doing, all he knew was that he had to try and somewhat unbelievably he and Beckett had cheated death twice in one day. They'd celebrated and laughed and thrown their arms around one another, happy for this small miracle, they'd saved the city, they'd saved each other and then he'd gone home alone. He sighed once again, and reached for his laptop which he'd left on the table next to the sofa, it felt as if he had left it there days ago, so much had happened since. It loaded quickly, and he began to type, Richard Castle was a writer and there was no way that he couldn't write down what had happened. The words flowed freely, sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, he doubted anyone but himself would see these words, but that didn't matter, at least it made him feel better, it made him forget, just for a moment, that eerie shade of blue.

* * *

**Comments? Anyone want to read my Beckett POV?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here we are. Months and months have passed since I wrote this. But someone (Jaime) reminded me that this didn't have a second part and I am glad she did. Thanks to both Jaime and Soph for the read-through, where would I be without my television loving (and very talented) friends. Thank you both, hugs. **

* * *

**That Eerie Shade of Blue**

Her eyes fluttered open, she shivered as they adjusted to the dim light of the room. She could feel his arm resting upon her stomach; she wriggled carefully and slipped out from underneath his grasp. He didn't move, his arm gently dropped to rest carefully upon the sheets. Slowly she climbed from the bed and stood next to it, staring down at him. He didn't awaken, he didn't even seem to realise that she had gotten up.

When they'd first began sleeping together she'd loved that she could creep to and from the bed without him noticing. There were no disappointed looks when she'd had to leave to attend a crime scene. There was no pity face when she'd crept into bed late. She was simply able to sleep when she needed and leave when she needed – she'd been able to keep her foot out the door.

Right now though she wished he would wake up. She would even take a confused and perhaps annoyed face tonight, but there was no movement. She shivered again and then remembering the advice he had given her earlier, she quickly managed to find another sweater and another blanket and wrapped both around herself as she headed for the kitchen.

The room was eerily still. She sighed, it was the same as every other night when she'd found herself standing here. But tonight was different. She shivered again as she found her way to the lamp and switched it on. The room brightened, but instead of the normal light that usually illuminated, it had taken on a blue shade. She shivered again as she turned both of her hands to face her, inspecting her fingers. There were no icicles forming. Her hands weren't turning blue. Her hands looked like they always had, she clenched her fingers against her palms three times to make sure. Each time her fingers curled and uncurled easily and the color didn't change, they weren't turning blue and they weren't cold. Her skin wasn't icy. Her lips weren't turning blue. Her teeth weren't chattering. She wasn't freezing. She was safe.

Katherine Beckett had never felt that blue was an eerie color, but that changed today. Blue was the color her breath turned as she'd whispered to him what she thought could be her last words. Blue was the color she'd seen as her eyes had closed, too helpless to fight against the cold that had begun to penetrate her bones. Blue was the color of the eyes that she longed to see when she'd woken after being pulled from the freezer. Blue wasn't easily forgotten.

Blue was the color of the eyes she'd stared into when she'd thought for the second time that she was going to die. That his blue eyes and his handsome face were the last things she was going to see in this life if that bomb had gone off, that his name was going to be the last thing she'd say. His face, his eyes would have been engrained on her mind. Not the busy New York street, not the bomb that was going to end their lives and the lives of countless others. It would have been his face, and the blue of his eyes.

It is the same blue eyes that she'd stared into later that night, after the city had been saved, after the thanks had been made. Blue were the eyes of the man who'd wanted to say something else to her before he'd seen Josh and changed his mind. She wishes she knew what he would have asked. If their night would have consisted of drinks at The Old Haunt, laughs with the staff they had both come to consider friends. Would it have been better than the night she'd ended up with?

It is the blue of those eyes that haunts her now. It is the blue of those eyes that makes her want to shake Josh awake so that he can distract her with more conversation, with more questions, with more ideas that him coming back means that they have a second chance.

Dinner with Josh, drinks with Josh. Conversation with Josh about why he'd changed his mind about the doctors without borders mission. Kisses with Josh, more conversation with Josh. But still the shade of blue remained.

The blue of frozen fingers. The blue of breaths and of whispered words. The blue of eyes that penetrated her mind and refused to leave.

Shades of blue of differing strength, shades of blue she can't forget.


End file.
